


To the Victor

by Cadjet001



Category: Original Work
Genre: Annual Femslash Kinkmeme, Belly Dancing, Class Issues, Dancing, Exhibitionism, F/F, Femslash, Harems, Kink Meme, Lesbian Sex, Mentioned bondage, Not a villain protagonist per say but definitely outside of modern morality, Older Woman/Younger Woman, Original Character(s), POV Lesbian Character, Sexual Inexperience, Swords & Sorcery, Threesome, caste systems, mentioned dubious consent, mentioned slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-16 11:36:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29699967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cadjet001/pseuds/Cadjet001
Summary: For the 2020 Femslash kink meme prompt here: https://femslash-kink.dreamwidth.org/35992.html?thread=4247704#cmt4247704Newly Blooded Warrior/Experienced Harem Member, difference in experince and physicality
Relationships: Original Character(s)/Original Character(s), Original Female Character/Original Female Character
Kudos: 14
Collections: The Annual Femslash Kink Meme 2020, The Annual Femslash Kinkmeme





	To the Victor

As the sun rose over the green plains of Anglind the warrior caste of that lush, beautiful country assembled for battle. Their scarlet crests and steel spears shone like waves on the ocean as they formed their battle lines, blocking the road that led south towards their mother city. To the west a line of mountains rose, to the east a broad river flowed and from the north came the enemy. There were over ten thousand of them, rank upon rank of reptilian warriors and shaggy war-beasts. The defenders of Anglind were outnumbered but in no way outmatched. They were better armed, better disciplined and better led then the oncoming horde. Their horses were faster, their arrows swifter and their hearts braver. The battle would, in any true tactician’s judgement, go in their favour.

Ang-Mai the Tall crouched inside a copse of stunted trees to the left of the main line. Despite her heavy armour, her mother’s twin axes and the hundred other warriors surrounding her she didn’t feel favoured. Behind her grimacing blue war mask her nerves were short and her heartbeat rapid. Her normally powerful arms seemed strangely weak. She tried to imaging smashing her axes through an enemy’s skull like she’d smashed so many training dummies, but it didn’t seem possible that she could strike with such force. Ang-Mai was taller than most men, with dark hair that she wore very short and piercing green eyes. She was one of the state’s most promising unblooded fighters, but as the grey-and-green horde came closer the trust which had won her a place in the ambush party seemed more and more misplaced.

“Hold steady,” said her captain, an old woman in a yellow mask kneeling somewhere to her left. The enemy were a hundred feet away. The sounds of battle were starting up further down the line.

“On my word.” Ang-Mai gripped her mother’s axes tight and pushed all her doubts deep down into her stomach. The attackers meant to ravage Anglind, to burn its fields and villages and drag its people off into slavery. It was her duty as a daughter of the second caste to protect all those who could not protect themselves.

“Charge!”

*

Sometime later Ang-Mai the Tall lay on her back in the mud and the blood, her axes lying where they’d fallen from her exhausted hands. She was drenched in sweat, her muscles ached and her mask was lying somewhere amid the carnage, but she was alive. Her first battle was over and unless the warmth on her face was actually the grey sun of the underworld, she was alive. There were corpses near her, the dead bodies of serpent-men that had been warriors like her that morning. Now they were dead and she was not, because she’d killed them.

Something blocked out the sun and Ang-Mai opened her eyes. Her captain was standing over her, holding out a hand for her to grasp. The old woman’s sunburnt face was bright with triumph and flecked with gore.

“Stand up, Ang-Shi’s daughter!” The captain’s grin spread from ear to ear. “This is no time for lying down on the job. We’ve won the battle and there’s work to be done!”

Ang-Mai grabbed the proffered hand and pulled herself to her feet. There was indeed work to be done; tending to the wounded, burying the fallen, despoiling the vanquished. By the end of the day her muscles ached even harder, her hunger gnawed even fiercer and she was in desperate need of a bath. But she was alive and blooded and entitled to bed the hierodules of the warrior’s harem.

*

  
The Hall of the Hierodules was the most beautiful building in Anglind. Its roofs were covered in red tiles, its doors with hammered gold and its walls with pristine white plaster. The hall stood between two proud mountains at the head of a valley that was lush with pine trees and cut through by a sparkling river. Above it, high on the taller mountain’s peak, was the holy tower where the high sages of the priestly caste gazed up at the night sky. Inside was the harem, where the lower priests gave thanks to the warriors who were their counterparts on the field of battles, whose tireless bravery made their own lives of devotion and prayer possible. Ang-Mai’s stomach fluttered as she stared up at the temple’s golden front door. A dozen other warriors surrounded her, all in armour and carrying their spears and bows. Once again none of them looked half as nervous as she felt. A flight of steps lead up to the entrance, lined with statues of famous holy women. The ones at the foot at the stair were fully clothed in their sage’s robes, their smiling faces full of wisdom. As the staircase rose the statues lost their clothes and loosened their hair. Their faces became first mischievous, then lascivious, until the pair which flanked the doors were on their knees with their legs spread wide and their tongues hanging from their mouths, eyes rolled up in ecstasy.

“Think you can do that for her?” said the tall warrior to Ang-Mai’s left, nodding towards the kneeling statues. She was only a few years older than Ang-Mai, but had been blooded for some time. “It can be hard for a first timer to satisfy their women.”

“Bad luck if you can’t get her just like the statue,” said the stocky warrior to her right. Ang-Mai’s face burned with embarrassment. “A hex on your next battle they say.”

“Don’t worry,” said her captain. “You’ll do well. Your mother did.”

Before she think of a witty rejoinder the golden doors swung open and Ang-Mai’s got her first look at the priestess-prostitutes of the order of hierodules. There were three of them, and they were stunning. One had white-blonde hair while the other two were redheads. All three had the pale complexion and dark eyes characteristic of the paramount caste. They were short and voluptuous and dressed in white gowns which barely concealed bodies that Ang-Mai wouldn’t have believed a woman could possess if they weren’t standing there in the flesh.

“Welcome conquering heroes,” said the blonde. “Our hall is honoured by your presence. Enter as guests, but leave your warlike harness at the door.”

  
Immediately the rest of the party dropped their weapons and began to shed their armour. The sound of metal and wood clattering on to the flagstones made Ang-Mai jump in surprise and she stood for several shameful moments before grasping what she was supposed to do. She didn’t like the idea of leaving her mother’s axes on the ground, but that was what everyone else was doing. Someone must be waiting to gather their discarded gear up and take it somewhere safer. The mountain air was very cold and her woollen tunic was suddenly thinner than it has been that morning.

They filled up the stairs and through the doors, under the eyes and smiles of the three hierodules. The antechamber was as beautiful as the outside of the temple, with tapestries on the walls showing the warrior caste’s most famous victories and an intricate mosaic of a dragon on the floor. One of the redheads closed the door behind them and as she turned back towards the crowd the captain grabbed her by the wrist, swept her up in her arms and kissed her fiercely on the mouth. The other warriors laughed in approval as the redhead giggled and squirmed in their leader’s grasp. Ang-Mai bit her lip in nervous excitement. At any other time, in any other place these women would be her superiors. In the warrior’s harem the second caste gave the orders and paramount caste obeyed. The idea was as intoxicating as their beauty. What her shield-mates had said was true however. Despite their subservient position the hierodules had expectations of the warrior caste, and the warriors had expectations of each other. If a warrior’s disappointed her partner or demanded too much too fast then word always got out and hung around them like a bad smell.

Another golden door swung open and they followed the priestesses down a corridor, through a curtained archway and in to the harem chamber itself. There were at least twenty more women in the circular room, each as lovely as the last. They lounged on couches, leaned against pillars, perched on the edge of the fire pit in the centre of the chamber. None of them wore more than a thin silk veil covering her mouth and a matching drape covering her loins. All had long hair in a coiffure that was unique to each girl. A prince’s ransom in gold and precious stones shone in their ears, noses and nipples.

As she gazed around the chamber one girl in particular caught Ang-Mai’s eye. She was a petite blonde, dressed in white silks and with a dreamy, faraway smile on her face. She looked exactly like one of the novices who Ang-Mai saw every day at pray, who she had always lusted after but never dared to approach. That’s her, her heartbeat said, she’s one for me. Then her gaze drifted to the woman next to the blonde she was thrown into confusion. This girl was every bit as beautiful as her sister, dark and gorgeous with a green veil and gold studs in her thin eyebrows. She wore a confident smirk, as they she knew that she was the best lover in room and looked forward to proving it. There was so much choice, so many women who had Got To Be The One, and there was Ang-Mai unsure if she could satisfy any of them.

“Your honour us with your sweat and spilled blood, brave heroes.” It was one of the red-headed priestess who spoke from the doorway. “And for your sacrifices the sisterhood of hierodules honours you in turn. Tonight you feast with us and when you have eaten we daughters of the paramount caste are yours to bed and use however you desire. Please be seated.”

Ang-Mai sat down on the nearest free couch, hoping that it was free and she wasn’t supposed to know which one was hers. A door on the other side of the chamber opened and the victory feast was served up, heaping plates of meat and vegetables on silver platters carried by captives taken in the battle. The serpent women were naked, with shackles on their wrists and muzzles on their faces. Under their monstrous helmets the people of the northern jungle were human, but unmistakably marked by their ophidian ancestry. Ang-Mai looked into the yellow eyes of the first girl to approach her and saw a mix of conflicting emotions, fear and anger and shameful excitement struggling together. A few days before she and her fellow captives had been warriors. Now they were objects, stripped of their pride and dignity along with their armour, condemned to serve in the land they’d come to ravage. As Ang-Mai took the goblet of mead that was offered to her she couldn’t help but think that if things had turned out differently she might be kneeling in front of a reptilian mistress, every inch of her exposed.

“Why so glum?” the heavily scarred warrior across from her said. “Not feeling pity for the lizard wenches are you?”

“No,” she answered hastily. “No not at all.”

“Maybe she wants a piece of that scaly rear,” interjected a girl she recognised from the ambush. “I’d start with a warm blooded woman if I were you.” Ang-Mai almost chocked on her mouthful of fried cabbage as she struggled to come up with a retort. It would be so much easier to take the bashful prisoner to bed and not worry about having to impress her. Easier, and an admission of defeat. Before she could defend herself however she was interrupted by a voice from behind her.

  
“May I dance for you, brave heroes?” It was the fair-haired priestess from the front door who’d approached them. Her white dress was gone. Instead she wore a black veil between her thighs and a translucent length of crimson silk around her breasts. Up close and separated from her sisters the blonde was even more overpowering than she’d seemed before. She was Ang-Mai’s elder by about ten years, a head shorter than her and far softer, with round breasts and thighs to match her thick, sensuous red lips. Her poise was incredible, the total confidence of the highest and most noble of Anglind’s daughters plain on her face.

“Of course,” said the scarred warrior.

“Dance away,” said the other girl.

Ang-Mai nodded enthusiastically, painfully aware that her mouth was full and it showed.

The priestess started dancing. She could hardly believe that a human body could move the way the woman did, more serpentine than the serpent-men, more graceful than the most skilful fighter, so erotic that all thought of the other women in the room was blotted out. Her fellow warriors were murmuring in approval, but Ang-Mai stayed silent. Her fellows were whistling for the dancing woman’s attention, but it was Ang-Mai who she moved closer to, Ang-Mai who she ground her hips against, Ang-Mai who she straddled and leaned over close enough to whisper in her ear.

“You’re nervous,” the hierodule whispered. Her hips and belly continued to move as she spoke. “I have my ways of knowing who needs special attention, and you need it more than most. My name is Sage Qui-Shan. May I make love to you, Ang-Mai Ang-Shi’s daughter?”

“Yes,” Ang-Mai gasped. “Oh hells yes of course.” Qui-Shan pulled off the cloth that covered her chest with a flourish, her white breasts with their small pink nipples inches from Ang-Mai’s crimson face.

“May I undress you in front of everyone?” With another graceful movement she shed her loincloth and tossed it away over Ang-Mai’s head. “Will you allow me that pleasure my beautiful hero?”

Ang-Mai’s froze. In front of everyone? Was that normal? Was that allowed? Was she about to be humiliated in front of her comrades? Qui-Shan’s calm smile said otherwise. She gripped the back of the couch tight and pushed all her doubts deep down into her stomach.

“Yes,” she said. “Yes of course you can.” Qui-Shan’s lips met her own and she was so soft and so wet and somehow she’d removed Ang-Mai’s jacket and was pulling down her leggings. The clothes were thrown aside and instantly snatched up by a serpent-woman who’d appeared by the couch, eyes down and crawling on her knees. Ang-Mai’s linen draws and shift followed straight after. The room broke into applause.

“Now stand,” she said. Ang-Mai rose from the couch, hear heart pounding as she felt every pair of eyes in the chamber on her on naked body. She was still nervous, but now there was excitement and pride there as well. One of the senior concubines had claimed her in front of everyone and was now looking at her undisguised desire.

“Follow me,” said Qui-Shan. With a gentle tug on the wrist she led Ang-Mai across the chamber to the door which the servants had entered from. In the corners of her vision Ang-Mai could see her comrades beginning to pair off with the other women, scanty silk garments hitting the floor, lips meeting passionately. She only had eyes for Qui-Shan however. The priestess’ hips swayed as she walked in a way that made Ang-Mai want to throw her to the carpeted floor and fuck her right there in the hallway. They turned from the corridor into a lamplit bedroom where a pallet waited for them. A tiger skin lay on the dark floorboards and a scroll showing two naked women dancing hung on the far wall. A flowery smell rose from the lamps and bowls of dried leaves in the corners of the room. The hierodule turned back to her and they kissed long and hard. Ang-Mai’s powerful, calloused hands roamed instinctively over the hierodule’s body.

“Lie down with me,” said Qui-Shan. The mattress was stuffed with feathers, softer than any bed in Ang-Shi’s manse and softer by far than the straw mats in the hall of novices. “Look at you,” the hierodule crooned. “My big, strong, brave hero. You’ve been nervous since you arrived, haven’t you?”

“Yes,” said Ang-Mai. “It’s all so much just…” she trailed off, unsure what else to say. The hierodule smiled and rested her hand on Ang-Mai’s chest.

“You’re not the first to find the harem intimidating, and you won’t be the last.” She ran her fingers down Ang-Mai’s stomach. “There is nothing I enjoy more than initiating new blood like you.” Her hand reached Ang-Mai’s thighs and her fingers went to work.

They stroked her dark covering of hair, her thick woman’s lips and her pink woman’s entrance. Ang-Mai gasped in delight and Qui-Shan grinned.

“The more I know about you, the more I can please you. Tell me beloved, how many girls have you been with?”

“Two,” said Ang-Mai. Her fingers found Ang-Mai’s clit and began to circle it gently.

“Shield-mates or peasant girls?”

“Shield-mates.” Ang-Mai raised her hips, trying to push the contact closer. “The three of us together in the training halls after dark.” Her lover’s names were Ang-Loti and Jun-Ari. They’d each been the other’s first and second.

“I thought so,” said Qui-Shan. Her fingers speed up as she spoke. “Did either of them touch you like this?”

“No!” Ang-Mai gasped. They’d used their fingers of course, but not like this. The skill in the hierodule’s hands was incredible. It was as if Qui-Shan’s nails were holding her up, each little movement lifting her higher, warmth building in her belly with incredible speed. She could hardly believe anyone could do what Qui-Shan was doing, that her body was capable of responding in the way that it was.

Suddenly Qui-Shan stopped and raised her hand to her mouth. Her fingertips glistened in the lamplight. She licked them clean, smiling mischievously as Ang-Mai looked at her in surprise and disappointment.

“Don’t stop!” she whined. “I was so close, you can’t just stop!”

“Can’t I?” said Qui-Shan. Now her voice was mocking, as though she were speaking to a child. “Is that an order my warrior? It didn’t sound like one.”

“Yes!” A little spark of anger flared inside Ang-Mai’s chest. Yes she was young, yes she was inexperienced, but this was her reward for putting her neck on the line.

“There we are,” said Qui-Shan. “That’s the fire that burned all those snake things away. Show me that fire Ang-Mai. Earn your release.”

And so they fucked. Qui-shan had Ang-Mai finger her in return. She sat on Ang-Mai’s face and rode her eager, clumsy tongue. She spoke to Ang-Mai all the while they made love, encouraging her, correcting and praising her. Over and over she took Ang-Mai to the edge of ecstasy before throwing back into the cold pit of frustration. With each denial Ang-Mai’s warrior blood rose and her confidence grew stronger. Soon she was slapping the hierodule’s white behind and pulling her golden hair, her pleas for release growing more and more forceful until she was demanding satisfaction in a harsh growl while Qui-Shan’s refusals became less and less confident. The cotton sheets grew damp and tangled and the smell of their bodies mingled with the room perfume. Finally, after what might have been hours the hierodule lay on her front with her head between Ang-Mai’s thighs and made a request of her.

“Promise me one thing,” she said. “Promise me that you’ll survive your next battle.”

Ang-Mai vowed that they’d see each other again, first in words and then with a scream as a wave of pleasure washed through her, brought on by a single touch from Qui-Shan’s smallest finger. Then the priestess put her mouth back her pussy and did it again, and again, and again.

“Was the good for you?” said the Hierodule, stroking her closely cropped scalp. “Because it was wonderful for me.” Ang-Mai nodded wordlessly. Qui-Shan reached over to a table beside the bed and picked up a small silver bell.

“I hope you have the stamina for another round my warrior. There’s much more that I want to do with you tonight.” She rang the little bell and the bedroom door slid open. In came the younger hierodule who Ang-Mai had lusted after earlier, and behind her came the serpent girl who’d served her meal.

“You know how to handle one attacker,” said Qui-Shan. “But can you handle three?”


End file.
